If we could just get the hot water back on. Which, according to Molly’s text, we should know soon enough.
Molly: Help is on the way! Shouldn’t be more than a couple of hours.
While I waited for said help to arrive, I busied myself with trips back and forth from my car to stock the fridge and pantry with all the food they’d need. I made the beds with clean sheets, folded clean towels in each bathroom, and started hauling in the five-gallon buckets of flowers that my closest vendor had delivered onto the front porch just before I arrived. Each room would have a bouquet of Isabel’s favorites, with a small basket of items to pamper themselves—face masks, lotions, chocolate, fuzzy socks, and a plush robe that Molly splurged on with each girl’s name embroidered on the chest.
The kind of prep I was doing was admittedly outside of my pay grade. It was the sort of thing I used to do when I worked for Molly as her assistant, but even five years later, with a staff who should be doing it for me, I couldn’t bring myself to delegate the Ward family to anyone else.
I loved them too much to let anyone else take care of them. Kind of like my own family.
After chugging some water, with a splash or two onto my overheated face and chest, I set about cutting flowers and organizing the stems for each room. The sound of a car approaching had me peering out the window facing the circular driveway, but I couldn’t see anything.
I wiped my hands on some paper towel and waited for the plumber to knock. But a minute or so passed, and there was no sign of him approaching the door.
Molly had said a couple of hours, though, and with a quick glance in the mirror next to the front door, I winced at the mess of my hair. A few tugs of my ponytail holder only seemed to make it worse, and I gave up with a sigh as I heard heavy footsteps on the big front porch.
Before my hand turned the doorknob to let him in, a sweeping sensation danced up my spine. With a tilt of my head, I looked down at my arms and frowned when I noticed goose bumps.
The house, full of Emmett memories, was making me go a little crazy. It was the only explanation.
“Stop it,” I whispered.
With those words still echoing in my head, I pulled the door open.
In the shaded, cool air of the front porch, standing tall and too damn handsome for his own good, was Emmett fucking Ward.
I set my hand on my hip. “You’re the help she sent?”
His lips quirked in a tiny smile. “Nice hair.”
My hand flew to the top of my head, but honestly, what was the point?
With a disgruntled sigh, I dropped my hands to my side and sank against the doorframe. “Is there some cosmic conspiracy going on?” I asked. “Masquerades and girls’ night and my parents’ house and now this? Seriously, Emmett. Are you incapable of telling me when you’re going to pop up somewhere?”
“I like seeing your face when you’re not expecting me.” He tucked his hands into his pockets and rocked on the balls of his feet. “Can I come into my family’s house, please?”
“Not yet. What do you mean by that?” I crossed my arms. “What does my face do?”
With those mile-long legs of his, it only took a couple of steps, and he was standing over me.
“You’re doing it right now,” he said quietly. “Your eyes, they go all soft. And your cheeks…” He traced a fingertip over my cheekbones. “They turn this sweet pink color. Makes me wonder what you’re thinking about.”
“I’m thinking about plumbing.”
He grinned. “Liar.”
It was sort of true. I was thinking about how I’d have to shower later, knowing Emmett and I were alone in this big house. His eyes stayed locked on mine like he was waiting for me to back away.